


Rats, Hogs, and Rabbits

by dandelame



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Baby's First Bank Robbery, D.Va learns to live with the junk boys, Drinking, Family Heists, Hostage Situations, Junker D.Va AU, LATER, Learning to Love Each Other, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Team as Family, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, all three are powered by rage, and bad ideas, but seriously Roadhog and Junkrat slowly become D.Va's dads, gay junker dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelame/pseuds/dandelame
Summary: Normally, they would just leave the kid out in the wastelands to rot. Now she's hauled over Roadhog's shoulder, limp as a ragdoll. 'She's lucky', they think, 'lucky that we were feeling nice today'. Little do they know that this soldier they spared wasn't going to let herself be just another victim.-After attacking a group of soldiers with unclear intentions, Junkrat and Roadhog come along a lone survivor in their aftermath; a 19-year old girl unconscious in a MEKA cockpit.





	1. Hot Pink Mystery Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank god for the Junker D.Va skin, how else would I find a way to justify caving in and piecing three of my favourite characters together?  
> Anyway, this is my first Overwatch fic, so I hope you like it!

As usual, the battle ended in a mess of sand and dust in a deserted wasteland, machine parts and bodies scattered about. A few undetonated grenades that were too dangerous to touch were the only live ammunition left, and the silence contrasted the scene from a few moments ago way too strongly.

While they didn’t know who had sent it, a group of omnics and a few humans from some sort of military had come for Junkrat and Roadhog. It wasn’t anything new; Junkrat usually left a few stray pieces of evidence here and there that somehow connected them to their next theft, and Roadhog was used to the carelessness. So when the two realized that he had misplaced their roadmap after their last heist with some detailed information in the margins, Roadhog scared him shitless for his mistake before they began stockpiling their weapons for the bloodbath to come. 

Junkrat giggled under his breath, and put his hands on his hips triumphantly as he stomped his pegleg on the back of a unresponsive omnic, the grin on his face plastered wide and full of triumph. A light flickered beneath its metal plates as he pressed downward before they hissed and faded completely. New materials and scraps for new bombs for a new day.

“Aw Roadie, look at the  _ mess _ we made! Poor hunks of sheet metal, almost feel bad for ‘em,” Junkrat snickered, the sarcasm in his voice through the roof. “It’s almost like they came here  _ wanting _ to be scrapped, eh?” Roadhog gave an amused grunt, and that set Junkrat off laughing his ass off, as usual. He danced around the scene of burned and blasted bodies, beginning to search for spare parts in his bliss, continuing to ramble on and on about their victory. Roadhog sighed and half-tuned him out, leaning back to crack his joints before leaning down and grabbing an omnic’s torso, tossing it when he saw it was too damaged for their use. He groaned. 

Something was different about this attack, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Usually the two didn’t dwell on these things after they were done and done, unless payment was involved somehow, but there was something that he couldn’t place his finger on.

 

When they had seen the group of soldiers approaching their set-up hideout, their numbers larger than normal; usually a smaller group of well-trained soldiers were sent to be their latest kill, but this time, their numbers were in the fifties. Not only that, but they were strangely at ease. A few humans were highly armoured but didn’t seem to have any weapons ready on them, which was particularly dumb of them, Roadhog thought. While Junkrat didn’t seem to notice it in his excitement, there was just a different atmosphere that the group carried as they travelled towards their base. And finally, the mechanical figure that seemed to lead the group was different; it was large, heavy, and a shade of pink that stood out in the dull landscape. They weren’t trying to be stealthy, obviously, and he didn’t know why.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to find our before they detonated the defensive bombs planted for the army with care. Not like Roadhog really cared.

As usual, screams rang out, bodies and metal parts flew, and suddenly it was just like any other fight. The hesitation disappeared on both sides (not like it was there to begin with, on Junkrat and Roadhog’s part) as bullets flew and bombs sent people flying. All it took to finish them off were a few cranks of his scrap gun’s rotary function and a single riptire. While it was nice to have another victory, Roadhog’s brow furrowed under his mask as he tried to understand-

“Oi! Mate! I might need a little help with this one!” Junkrat snapped Roadhog out of his thoughts, waving to the much larger piece of machinery. In the battlefield, it had walked on two legs and it’s “arms” were devastating machine guns, but from a distance it had stumbled backward with a few explosions, the final use of Junkrat’s riptire causing it to fall to the ground with a thud and an explosion of sand and dirt. However, as he looked over the machinery, he saw what caught Junkrat’s eye; the tech was much more advanced and protective, and it looks like the shock wave had knocked it out rather than sheer damage alone. That scrap could make spectacular equipment, and while Roadhog know Rat knew that for a fact, he let him laugh and patronize the fallen… omnic? Roadhog’s eyes narrowed behind his hefty mask, eying the machine.

“Look at it, all sad and beaten, like a dead rabbit. Sure it’s got some good parts in there, huh Roadie?!”

They took a close look at the large piece of machinery, and Junkrat giddily almost stumbled over it with his peg leg. He had almost given away their position during the attack with his laughter as he saw it stick out in the distance, hot pink, slow, and loud as all hell. Junkrat almost wished to go and ask the army casually what they were doing with such a sore thumb on their team. There, of course, was a thought in the back of his mind that was wishing to see it’s devastating nature in action, but then, with a shrug, he had pressed the button to the detonator and all shit had gone loose. Maybe, with it’s scraps, Junkrat could make a hot pink concussion mine, although it  _ would _ be slight counterintuitive for something supposed to be hidden away....

Regardless,  it would be fun, and that was all that mattered. The tall man giggled and grinned widely, his excitement getting greater by the second as he prepared to pounce with his partner onto the scrap.

“Jamison, we should be careful with this one.”

...What? Roadhog only used that name when he was serious, or if they were sure they were completely alone. Junkrat’s brow furrowed and bared his crooked teeth slightly, turning to the tank of a man.

“What are ya talking about, Hog? We were blowin’ these nasty trash piles to smithereens a lil’ bit ago, and now you wanna be careful all’ava sudden?! How-”

He was shut up by a purposeful shove to his real arm, almost knocking him to the ground as he let out a cry.

“Look, you idiot, it’s obvious.”

The thinner man let out a long and drawn-out groan, but before he could say another word, Roadhog leaned down to the front of the machine and swiped a hand across the thick layer of dirt that was crudding up it’s surface. Suddenly, Junkrat got what Roadhog meant. He narrowed his eyes. 

This wasn’t an omnic; the markings and licensing labels covering the scraped-away and dirty pink paint indicated this enough. It finally got through to him that none of the omnic soldiers on it’s team were even slightly similar. But did it really matter? If anything, this meant it was more valuable. They would get amazing scraps from this junk-heap, ones that would certainly last a lifetime or two (or a few weeks longer, in their hands). But as Roadhog pushed dust and dirt off of the surface, the material changed, and suddenly clear, scratched glass was being uncovered. He could see slight outlines of more tech and machinery behind it. Something was  _ inside _ .

“Hog, what the fuck? What’s in there?”

“How the hell would  _ I _ know?”

“Hmp, well I aint leavin’ ‘till we find out!” Junkrat giggled, nudging him aside, and, with both flesh and metal hands in action, he violently pushed and scratched at the dirt that covered the surface. Within seconds, dust was flying everywhere, and Roadhog cursed and coughed. Fuckin’ idiot knew he had asthma but couldn’t hold himself back in the heat of the moment. Junkrat kept laughing and squawking with cries of joy as he revealed their new treasure, his voice echoing in the empty wasteland.

But suddenly, there was silence. Jamie stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at what he had just uncovered.

 

Roadhog growled, and pushed redirected his vision to what was stealing his gaze. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh as well.

There wasn’t something inside, there was  _ someone _ . Someone small in comparison to the huge machine, to them; a girl with blood rolling off of a cut on her forehead and unresponsive to their antics, to _anything_. Her torso looked like it was normally supposed to be horizontal in the machine, but whatever was holding her put  _ before _ had failed, probably once it had taken the last blow, and she had fallen in a heap into the machine’s cavity. Flickering joysticks and buttons barely illuminated her inside, just barely allowing them to notice that she was still breathing.

Still breathing, huh? That wasn’t something they were used to.

  
“Mako, what in the fuckin’ hell are we supposed to do with this?”


	2. Pep Talks and Long Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat and Roadhog decide what to do with the kid they found, and Junkrat thinks about stuff.

You know, there aren’t too many moments where a pair like Junkrat and Roadhog have to consider their next actions. Usually it’s always instinct, impulse and second nature that keeps ‘em going; pull the trigger, blow shit up, that whole deal. That was the thing; these two had _experience_ with danger and thoughtless decisions; when you’re raised in a deserted wasteland and most of your living moments are life-or-death, you learn to act on quick and don’t die. Thankfully, most things can be solved with an explosion for two.

But this? Nope. The young girl, years younger than even Junkrat, was defenseless and in peril and _alive_. Even that last point was taking them a moment to get through their minds.

While they were so often painted as destruction-fueled nutjobs on new stations and wanted posters, they still had _morals_ , even if they were a little bit out of proportion. They hurt people who _deserved_ it. Suits, cops, omnics, enemies, and asses were at the top of the list. Sure, they couldn’t always choose who got caught in their explosions, but it usually never crossed their mind; they were never usually one-on-one with _survivors_.

Normally, if there was a witness who could escape and give them away, they would kill ‘em.

Normally, if there was an innocent about to walk into the danger of their next target, they would scare ‘em away and threaten them not to tell (for the greater good, of course).

 

Normally, they tried not to get _kids_ involved.

 

But this victim wasn’t gonna escape any time soon, they didn’t know what her intentions would be once she got up, and, well… she was a kid, and guess what? She was certainly involved.

Eyes wide, Junkrat lurched forward with shaking prosthetic hand to rap on the glass of the mechanical beast, jittery and mumbling unintelligible words under his breath. Roadhog let him knock and tap for almost a minute before grabbing his arm. The noises were making him anxious, and he couldn’t think.

Immediately, a jittery Junkrat swung his head around, sweating, eyes as wide as his riptire. _Fuck_ , Roadhog’s stomach dropped, _now he’s panicking._

“A-are you sure she’s not DEAD… we could leave her, but what if we _leave_ her and she comes _back_ and we have to kill a youngin?? I mean, if she was _targetin’_ us it wouldn’t be _that_ bad, but leaving her here may as well be a death sentence anyway, and fuck Roadie, ain’t like us to kill someone defenceless, right??” Jamie started tapping his peg leg, tugging at his hair as he stared into space. “They didn’t make the first move, you notice? What did they want?? Who sends out a kid like this into our _fuckin_ ’ _territor-_ ”

“Jamie, deep breaths, deep fuckin’ breaths, look at me.”

This happened sometimes. Just like anyone else in this radioactive wasteland, his mental health was in pieces that couldn’t be put back together. Roadhog had learned to deal with it; he himself was affected, but not as early, or course. He pulled off his mask quickly, and made eye contact without a single hesitation. Damn, he could see the tension flush out of the young man’s face at once. Thank god this still worked after all these years. Roadhog only took off his mask for him, not just because his face had a price reward attached to it. Not that it was important.

Soon, that glint was back in Junkrat’s eyes, and he was back to his old self: immensely underestimating the severity of the situations they found themselves in. The mask was back on.

 

A deep breath. “So, how are we gonna deal with this, Roadie?”

Silence.

They inspected the machine once more; the girl was still unconscious, there was still blood rolling off her forehead, and hey, there was still a decision to be made.

“...do ye wanna think about it any more?”

“Nah.”

And with that, two giant hands landed themselves on the edges of the glass panel, and it was wrenched straight out of the machine. If Junkrat wasn’t cheered up before, he was now: giggling, wringing his hands, and tapping his peg with anticipation. Adorable.

Maybe they didn’t have to worry so much; if making impulsive and destructive decisions had gotten them this far, why stop now?

The glass was tossed to the side with a loud CRASH in the silent wasteland, shattering among the rocks, as Roadhog reached into the cavity to grab the girl under the arms. Almost weightless in Roadhog’s arms, he held her out in front of him, getting a good look at their situation. She was small as fuck, compared to the duo who were no shorter than six foot five. Not only that, but she looked _healthy_ , so she definitely wasn’t from around these parts (if the hot-pink machine wasn’t enough to justify _that_ theory). Her hair was long and kept, two earpieces secured over her head like a headset, and other than a little blood, she was so entirely _clean_ . Roadhog snickered. That wasn’t gonna last long. Compared to the towering men and huge as _fuck_ machine, this girl was a pebble. Junkrat looked like he had never seen such a creature in his life; to be honest, he probably hadn’t. From the moment Australia was fucked, the idea of being “well-kept” was a myth.

“Oi, ‘Hog, you don’t think she a suit, do ya?”

With a negative grunt turned her around, lolling her head back and forth, even gave her a ‘little’ shake. She didn't wake up, but she wasn’t dead yet. Who knew how long that would take, or what they could even do about it.

“Well, she’s sure gotta be someone important. Probably isn’t leading a fleet of scrap metal for nothin’. How about we say…” Junkrat’s smile transformed into a sly grin, brimming with trouble, “she’s our hostage? Man, I’ve never held someone captive before! Could be fun, huh, Hoggie?” Junkrat seemed to be getting more and more excited, for someone who not only a few minutes ago was nearly on the bridge of a panic attack. Now he was ready as he would ever be to keep their first captive prisoner. Probably because his brain’s gears were finally turning on what they could call this situation.

Yeah, calling her a hostage seemed good for now. Hostage from _what_ , they didn’t know, but they could figure that out later.

Nonchalantly, the tank flung the girl over his shoulder, and gestured the beanpole of a man to follow him back to their base, dozens of robotic and organic corpses in their wake, with one minuscule exception.

* * *

 The walk was a long one, of course; their real base wasn’t the one used to lure in the oncoming army. Instead, it was dozens of kilometers away, as it had been for the last few months. Junkrat kicked a pile of sand in his wake as he walked, trying hard to keep up to the towering tank ahead of him. The hot sun and grimy dirt of the Australian wasteland was absolutely beautiful, he thought. Sure, a suit who found themselves stumbling into the place might be driven crazy by its isolation and danger - as well as its radiation. However, Junkrat was different. Like a majority of the younger people in these wastes, he had been born and raised in this way of life.

But there was still something else that set them aside. Most small gangs and crime-junkie groups that formed in these parts stayed that way: small. However, as soon as Junkrat had seen Roadhog, he knew that their journey was going to be a different one. His small solo jobs changed into incredible _masterpieces_ of thievery, and he never knew what to expect next. That was the absolute beauty of it; Junkrat didn’t _need_ to worry about what was coming, because he and Roadhog just rolled with it.

So obviously, this time wasn’t going to be any different, yeah?

_‘But you don’t know that do you?’_

_‘Shuddup, what do you know? You don’t know what you’re doing! Just kill the kid, get it over with.’_

_‘And what would that make me, huh?’_

_‘A bloody murderer, like you already are.’_

Junkrat’s eyebrow furrowed.

_‘Only t’people who deserve it.’_

_‘So what makes this kid any fucking different?’_

 

“Because I ain’t never _seen_ a kid like her yet,” Junkrat mumbled incoherently.

He felt Roadhog turn his head to look at him as he talked to himself, and he heard a grunt in his direction. To most people, it would be a meaningless noise, but Junkrat had grown to understand the man’s silent language. He was asking if he was okay, if his thoughts were fucking with him again. In response, Junkrat laughed faintly, took a breath, and nodded. Roadhog hesitated for a second, and then returned his focus to the horizon in front of him.

The sun was setting, he noticed. Junkrat got distracted more often than he didn’t, so the view was a surprise. As always, the sunset was a strange shade that he remembered Roadhog saying wasn’t completely normal. He said that a long time ago, when Junkrat first hired him. He said that in other places of the world, or before the time when Australia became a wreck, the sunsets were a whole variety of colours, from red all the way to violet. Here, the sun shone a bright red at night, like there was a fire raging uncontrollably in the distance. Junkrat first saw a “normal” sunset when he was in London for their first major heist. He liked the ones here more; they reminded him of the aftermath of an explosion, and it had always made him feel at home.

He shook his head and smiled. Wow, Junkrat’s mind had wandered. First from incredible self deprecation, now to a distant and fading memory of a sunset. It was Roadhog’s fault, of course. His worrying always seemed to snap him back into their jaded reality.

“Do ya still wanna put up with me, Hog?”

Another questioning grunt, even though Junkrat asked this question often.

“Y’know, you probably would have been able to just finish the kid off if it weren’t for m’panicking,”

A deep voice echoed out. “Nah.”

“You ain’t gonna leave me, are ya?”

“Not any time soon, Rat.”

 

And, like magic, a smile was back on his face, a pep back in his step.

 _‘_ Y’ain’t allowed, Roadie. I ain’t letting you go, heh!”

“Well, that’s what you're payin’ me for.”

Junkrat cackled and punched the older man in the arm, wincing at the pain but continuing to giggle. “Oi, you bastard! Say that again and I’ll fire ya! Go ahead, snap me like a twig, but no more cash is comin’ your way!” Junkrat doesn’t stop laughing, he probably _can’t_ , and he continues slapping Roadhog’s arm in his fit as they walk through the dust and dirt. These were the moments they both cherished. Just Junkrat laughing his ass off, Roadhog either huffing along or just letting him burn the other burn himself out. There wasn’t any danger for miles, and they could let a weight off their shoulders.

Except for the literal weight on Roadhog’s shoulder, of course. Soon they would be home though, safe and sound.

It was a long time since the two men had used the word ‘home’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... we meet the stray diva they picked up. See you next week!


	3. The Gremlin Awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! I've been having some troubles keeping up with stuff lately, especially with school, so it was hard to find time and motivation to write.  
> Regardless, I hope you like it!

When Hana Song first regained consciousness, her eyes shot open and her stomach dropped. Her vision was blurry and she had a headache that felt like her head was being ripped apart by hand, but she couldn’t afford to think of that right now.

Instead, her thoughts clung to the immediate memory her team. What had happened to her _team_ ?! She remembered a battle, and she certainly remembered the fear and anger as she watched her omnic teammates being blown apart, but she certainly didn’t remember towing herself in the Australian outback’s dry heat to… wherever she was now. Fuck, she had _failed them_ . With clenched teeth, she tried to let out a kick of frustration, only to realize that her legs were bound with zip ties; instead, she rocked her head back into the hard surface she leaned against. _Fuck, that hurt_ . Her vision was even _more_ blurry, a ringing in her ears the only sound in this empty place around her, but when she reached to hold her head, she realized her wrists were bound just as tightly in front of her. She wanted to wrestle against the restraints, to run out and find anyone who had been spared by the battle; this wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?

But was there even anyone left? Hana froze. She was alone, wasn’t she? Her first time leading a mission by herself, and this is how she ended up; a lone survivor who had failed those she was supposed to lead to victory. She felt her eyes well up, her breathing quicken, and she knew what was coming.

So she snapped her eyelids closed and did what they told her in training, what to do if you found yourself kidnapped or taken by the enemy. The thought of that notion made her breath tremble before she collected herself again.

 _Step one_ , she thought _, examine your surroundings_.

 

With a deep breath, Hana peeked open one eye very slowly, then the other. Before, she had been panicking too much to realize where she was; however, there didn’t seem to be much to it. She seemed to be in a moderately-sized shed, the walls made of rickety sheet metal leaned up against one another. She pressed backward, and when she didn’t feel the warm texture of metal in the desert heat, she guessed it was being supported by a separate wall of some kind. _Okay, that’s one thing down._ She was obviously in some sort of dirty base where nobody would look, a containment. Luckily, it was empty right now.

Details came next. The dirty floor, just dirt and stone, was littered with metal scraps, screws, and springs, all rusted and bent out of shape. Grimey tables and ripped plush chairs sat in the corner with a workbench, along with weapons that looked like they were being surgically disembodied. An old cloth hammock littered with holes was tied to the walls and ceiling in the corner of the room, almost a meter and a half off the ground, for some reason. Finally, there was a bucket of rusty unopened cans in the corner, and a couple still had labels legible enough to show that they were preserved fruits and beans. That made sense in a place like this; not many other foods would last that long. But if the food was there, that meant that her captors would need to come back to eat and rest; this wasn’t a measly set-up. Would they even feed her?

Her empty stomach started to rumble, but it was quickly put aside when a glint of a shinier metal caught her eye on a dirty table in the far corner: her pistol. It was scratched and dusty, of course, but rustless, unlike any metal in this junkheap. They had taken her things; she quickly checked to see if her communicator was still attached to her wrist with now-cramping arms, but she felt nothing. Damn it, she was defenceless. How was she supposed to contact-

She froze again; did Overwatch think she was dead?

They wouldn’t jump to that conclusion, of course, but the thought was still there. Fuck, she didn’t want to worry them, though at the same time she wished they would just get their asses over here and _save her_ . But what if rescue didn’t come? What if they were already assuming the worst? Fuck, her poor _viewers_ , they wouldn’t have received anything from her since her MEKA went down and stream went offline, _they were probably worried sick and-_

“Snap out of it, Hana,” she whispered to herself in silent Korean, and she noticed how cracked her voice was from the bone-dry air and lack of water in her system. Still, her voice in the empty room calmed her down enough to keep thinking, to keep following the protocol.

_Step two, clarify the situation one step at a time._

Right, she still hadn’t clearly gone over what happened.

 

She remembered heading into battle, laughing over a conversation with an Omnic soldier whom she forgot the name of; they were a unit kinda similar to Zenyatta, and they talked directly over her MEKA’s speaker for hours while they strode on through the wastelands. This hadn’t been a mission for those without mechanical protection, 76 had said; apparently that’s why she got to lead. Protected within a MEKA, and with omnic soldiers both invulnerable to the elements and humans clad in cooling, radiation-proof suits, she and her army should have been safe. Hours after trudging to find the base of the two junkers who had caught Overwatch’s attention, they finally found it, and-

That’s when the bombs went off. The omnic she had been laughing along with was blown to pieces in front of her eyes, along with a human soldier who she could hardly get herself to look at. Metallic and human screams alike filled the air before she could boom out orders to regroup their formation and advance. Hana had told herself, promised herself, that she wouldn’t let anyone else die. They were in her hands now. She readied her blasters, remembered their goal as adrenaline and anger rushed through her veins.

_“This is most preferably a confrontation mission, aimed to possibly recruit the help of Jamison Fawkes and Mako Rutledge in our fight against both unjust humans and omnics. However, if they are to turn to violence, Miss Song, be prepared to use force.”_

And with force she fought, until she saw a tire speed around the corner and explode into the side of her MEKA with a jolt. There were flashing red lights for a moment to warn her that the ejection functions were terminated, that she was _stuck in the broken machine_ , and the mechanisms holding her in the machine released before she could even react. She fell into the cavity below as the MEKA toppled backwards, and all she remembered was the sharp pain of her head hitting the metal console before it all went to black.

And now she was here, her hands tied behind her back and legs bound together on the floor, defenceless and unable to fathom of what was to come.

Hana scowled as she reached up a shoulder up to her cheek to wipe away a tear. Since when was she a crybaby? She had lead so many missions in the Korean army against raging omnics, and she was known for coming home successfully with a body count lower than any other. As soon as she was recruited to Overwatch, however, something changed. She couldn’t place her finger on it. If anything was different, it was that some omnics were allies and _many_ enemies were human, incredibly dangerous ones at that. She had seen so many talented veterans come back to Gibraltar wounded severely, even if she had been training to reach a _fraction_ of their skill level weeks before.

Overwatch wasn’t fighting a simple war, she knew; if she was going to get out of this one, she needed to pull it together.

Hana eyed the restraints on her wrists again; they were secured with zip-ties, but bound tight enough that there was no possible way to wiggle out of them. Regardless, there was still another way to break them.

Holding the length of extra plastic between her teeth, she moved the securing piece of the zip-tie up to the top of her wrists, and tightened it as much as she could. Her wrists stung, but that was hardly important. She shakily but steadily raised her arms above her arms above her head, and with a swift movement she brought them down into her abdomen. Instead of the promising snap of plastic she was supposed to hear, she cried out as the ties dug into her pinched wrists. _FUCK_.

She froze. If her captors had heard, she was as good as dead, wasn’t she? Seconds past that felt like minutes, but all she heard in response to her shrill reaction was the whistling wind outside.

 _Time for attempt two_ , she thought. Bringing her arms above her head again, she brought them down, trying desperately to angle her arms right in this strange sitting position. As her arms reached her stomach this time, she made sure to drive apart her wrists, and finally, there was a snap as the tie tore apart and flew to other sides of the room. _Thank fuck_ , she grinned as she rubbed her stinging wrists.

Her ankles were still bound, however, and she was certainly going to fall into something if she wasn’t careful when maneuvering around-

A voice resonated in the distance, faint yet clear. Her heart stopped.

“Wonder if the runt woke up yet, huh?!”

It was _them_ , she realized with a pang of stress. Hana’s eyes darted across the room, searching for something, _anything_ , to use in her defence. There were the pieces of shrapnel and metal scraps all around her, sure, but they were all so small, sharp or flimsy that they were useless to her.

The same voice. “What do ya mean, ‘Hog? That tiny ‘lil thing ain't gonna be trouble!”

Hana’s head whipped so quickly she might have gotten whiplash; on a workbench only a few meters away from her was a rusty screwdriver, almost hidden beside a thin piece of scrap. With her legs bound, she was going to have to drag herself across the rough floor in order to get to it, and she was going to have to move _fast_.

“Wonder if she’ll piss herself when she see’s ‘ya, heh! Remember the last guy who pissed himself? That was a laugh.”

The voice kept getting closer as it approached the hideout, and with it came sounds of squeaking metal, rhythmically hitting the ground as if it was a footstep. She braced her gloved hands on the floor as she heaved her body forward, narrowly avoiding a screw propped upward on the floor that would have gone straight through her hand. She shivered, but the adrenaline in her veins pushed the thought away.

“Ya got a plan, Roadie?”

That question was answered with an impossibly deep, unintelligible grunt, sending a terrified shiver down Hana’s spine that almost, _almost_ , made her stop on her way across the floor. The voices were much closer now, she didn’t have much time. She was making progress, heaving her upper body towards the workbench, feeling the occasional sting of a metal cutting through her suit and scratching her skin. She was so close, less than a meter away.

“Yeah, guess we’ll just have to have some _fun_!”

She lurched as her arm slipped out beneath her, crashing onto a piece of sheet metal. The sound it made was impossibly loud, ringing in her ears like an alarm. That was all she needed to realize she didn’t have time to be careful anymore.

The voice laughed impossibly loudly, and she heard the squeaking metal pace pick up, as well as the deep thumping of heavy, running footsteps.

“Well, well, well! Wait for us, kiddo! HAH!”

With strength she didn’t know she had, Hana threw her body towards the bench. It rocked and fell, the screwdriver falling sideways onto the floor as she lurched towards it. The footsteps were loud now; she had seconds.

As she fell onto the cold floor, she just barely reached the screwdriver, pulling it desperately into her hands. And with that, as two gigantic figures stepped into the shelter, she pushed herself back upright to face them, baring her new weapon towards them. Her mouth went dry.

 

Hana had heard a lot about Jamison Fawkes and Make Rutledge in her lifetime, but she had never known more than their faces and their major crimes. There was more to them than just dirty, laughing junkers. Their files at Gibraltar hadn’t detailed the sheer fear factor that radiated off of them in person, not over a news station. Junkrat and Roadhog towered over her small frame on the floor, and it sent her blood running cold. Junkrat made eye contact with her, his amber eyes gleaming as he grinned and placed his hands on his bony hips, staring her down with a look in his eyes too joyful to be safe. Roadhog stood completely still, the dark windows of his mask staring into her expressionlessly. There was a moment of silence before she heard that familiar giggle coming from Junkrat as he jumped and tapped his feet (or, well, foot; she realized the squeaking had been coming from his rickety peg leg, barely keeping itself together).

“Oh, kiddo, you gonna have to find something better than _that_ if you’re trying to pick a fight.” He giggled, pointing with a metal finger to the screwdriver in her stiff hand. She kept her face stiff, serious and staring at the outlaws, hiding the fact that she could feel her heartbeat in her ears.

That was, until her voice came back to her, something she wasn’t even expecting herself.

“What do you sickos want?”

That made Junkrat giggle even harder, keeling over himself and then glancing over to Roadhog and punching his thick arm in his fit of laughter. Surprisingly, the terrifyingly intimidating Roadhog did nothing; she expected him to beat his partner in the same fashion, but he stood there looking used to this madness. Junkrat sighed loudly as his fit ended before turning to Hana again and leaning over her, casting his tall, thin shadow across the room. Sure, if he was tall, then Roadhog was a giant, but that didn't make the beanpole any less terrifying. Hana gulped as she stood her ground, brandishing the screwdriver harder over her shoulder. She might not be able to seriously harm them, but as a distraction-

He reached out and tapped her forehead with his human finger, harmlessly pushing her back. “To be honest, runt, we were gonna ask ya’ the same thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo if you want to follow me anywhere, I'm @her-renegade-pearl on Tumblr and @gaynayo on Twitter!


End file.
